


Shift Happens

by AnonEhouse



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, F/M, Hallucinations, Magic, Post Avengers (Movie), Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many kinds of monsters. Loki leaves Tony with one as a parting 'gift' that doesn't help Tony's relationship with Pepper at all. (Loki and Thor briefly appear.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shift Happens

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Spook Me Ficathon (but really, this isn't a Horror fic.) I'm posting it a day early because Hurricane Sandy is offshore close enough that a tropical storm is likely tomorrow-- given Comcast's track record for failing during even perfect weather, I'm paranoid & am posting while I can.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll have that drink." 

Loki looks like he really needs one. Being batted around by the Hulk has got to be wearing. Being _saved_ by the Hulk has left Tony with a bone-deep ache all over.

The guy is a lunatic with daddy issues, (and really, who isn't), but at least the bastard has style, so Tony pours him a neat Scotch. He kneels next to Loki sitting in his literal depression and holds it out to him. While on the helicarrier waiting for the various programs he and Bruce had set in motion to locate the Tesseract, break into Fury's Vault o' Lies, and do other harmless amusing tricks, he'd used the security system to watch Natasha/Natalie/whoever interrogate Loki. Her vulnerable act was still amazingly good; it consoled him a bit to discover how well it worked on someone who styled himself a god, and who wasn't, y'know, distracted by dying of slow, painful, poisoning. Loki's denial of her accusation of being a monster had been quick and instinctive, like someone who really did believe it. From what little Thor had said, Loki belongs to a race they'd both been taught since childhood to consider monsters. That's fun, Tony knows that's so much fun, thinking that no matter what you do, you're still not good enough so you either hate yourself, or you hate the world. Tony knows which he chose, and it's pretty obvious which Loki went for. 

Loki caused him a ton of personal pain and killed a lot of people, including someone Pepper had liked and who Tony... well, Tony has a habit of collecting interesting people, and he hates it when someone breaks his stuff. So he goes for the sore spot, with a smile on his face. "So; do monsters like Scotch, or should I pour you a nice glass of hemlock?"

Loki hesitates, and then takes the glass. He looks at Tony and his eyes darken from pale psychopath blue to a vivid, poison snake green. "Oh, I think monsters like Scotch." He tips the glass back and drains it. "After all, you do." And there's far too much knowledge in those glittering eyes. It makes Tony's muscles tense, makes his head and his stomach hurt. Yeah, he understands Loki's need to prove himself, need to show everyone. Understanding doesn't earn forgiveness. Not without repentance and restitution, and... not even then, not really. Forgiveness is a gift. And he sure isn't giving Loki any presents. He takes the empty glass and stands up. Loki's eyes fade back to blue. Tony is the only one who could have seen the green eyes, if that happened, if it wasn't just a trick of the light, or of having his skull bounced around inside his helmet. Probably just a last minute 'fuck with Tony's head for shits and giggles', hoping to get him to make a big fuss about it, get Loki a little more attention. Yeah, not going to happen.

Tony turns back to the others. "Ok, so, let's do shawarma. Shield can babysit for us, right?"

***

Not to hurt Thor's feelings, Tony refrains from discussing his crazy adopted brother during the meal they're all too weary and heart-sick to taste. Tony is seeing monsters behind his eyes, and he suspects none of them have any happier thoughts. It's good though that they're together, that they are sharing the silence. It's not a team-bonding exercise, just... they learned to trust each other, enough to make sharing a meal feel more like they're doing it for each other, you know, 'if I eat, they'll eat'. Tony is thinking too much about the wrong sort of things, but he's too tired, and too caught up in the horrors of the day, to think about tech or SI and it seems wrong to think about Pepper. As if thinking about her would rub some of the filth of the day off onto her. God, she'd been upset about bullet dings in the armor, what will she think about him piggybacking a nuke into another dimension? He wouldn't blame her at all if she said she'd had enough. He's enough of a fuck-up without the added joy of wondering when he's going to get himself killed and if she's even going to _know_ for certain.

***

The next morning Loki _looks_ at Tony before Thor takes him back to daddy, probably to get his hand slapped, or maybe some sicko mythological punishment involving venomous snakes, not that Tony looked it up or anything. His eyes are frosty, meaningless blue, and the threat in them is most likely habit, like a chained dog snarling. Doesn't bother Tony. Like it doesn't bother Barton. _Good bye, Mr. Tricks, don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out._

So much for Reindeer Games, time to think about current events. Tony's got to show Bruce around the R&D levels in the Tower; while he couldn't convince Bruce to stay permanently he had agreed to make use of the facilities to try to complete some projects he'd worked out theoretically. Tony hopes that Bruce will get so involved he'll forget to leave. It could happen. He certainly knows how easy it is to lose track of time when working, which reminds him, he's got a suit of armor to repair, just in case something else fun happens in New York while the other Avengers are gone on holiday. No one else gets to break Tony's stuff.

***

"Hey, Pepper, how did it go in Washington?" Tony is grinning so hard his jaw hurts, but he can't help it, that's just what seeing Pepper does to him, especially when he'd thought he was never going to get the chance again. "Sorry about the mess, you know how rowdy out-of-towners get." He had tried to tidy the penthouse, but let's face it, Dustbuster has its limits.

"Oh, Tony." 

He's not quite sure which of Pepper's 'oh, Tonys' this is. "Um...yes?" And then she has her arms around him and he's holding her tight and warm. 

"Yeah," he says. "It's good. I'm fine." He's not sure if she's crying or not. He pets her hair and breathes in her scent, a dash of expensive perfume over the herbal soap she likes, but mostly just Pepper. "Sorry I scared you. Hey," he says, trying for a lighter tone because she's shaking in his arms and it's making him want to run away, or buy her something outrageous, anything to make this not be happening. "Hey, I did my homework. You wanna..."

"Oh, Tony," she says, pushing back against his arms to look at him, and this time it's halfway between laughter and exasperation, and that's one of his favorite 'oh, Tonys' so he grins at her and strokes the hair back from her face, letting his fingers caress the warmth of her cheek.

He raises his eyebrows in question. "Is that a yes?"

"Tony, you're..." Pepper makes a gesture that takes in the visible bruises and scrapes on his face, and implies the rest of him isn't that great. "Really... I asked Jarvis. You're not up for anything like that."

"Oh, I am, I really am." Tony grins and kisses her. He doesn't care about the ache in his neck or shoulder or back, he feels so good right now.

"Well, maybe," Pepper says, tugging at his shirt. "Let me see what I have to work with." She grins back at him.

***

With Pepper it's not having sex, it's making love. Before her, Tony has never had anyone in his bed who really knows him, knows that when the white lightning of orgasm strikes, sometimes he gets an idea that just won't wait. Adrenaline surge gives him wild synaptic associations, he assumes. But it's Pepper, so he doesn't run off to the workshop to hide his weirdness; just grabs the nearest StarkPad and jots down the bare bones of the concept, something to do with refraction on soap bubbles, veining of dragonfly wings, valence shell electron pair repulsion theory, and ergonomically evolved designs. He's not sure what it's going to be. But it won't explode. Probably. He tosses the pad back onto the night stand and resumes kissing Pepper, worshipping her throat and breasts and the smooth incurve between breast and arm. It's all good. All warm and clean and smooth. "Beautiful design," he murmurs against her belly to feel her giggle intimately close.

"You don't feel a need to tweak it?"

Tony grins and presses a kiss to her belly button. "Well, maybe a little here and there."

***

"Green isn't your best color," Tony says idly. He doesn't usually lie in bed once he wakes, but then he doesn't usually have the visual distraction of Pepper putting herself together for the day. She's the only woman he'd ever watched get _dressed_. It feels far more intimate than all the strip teases in the world. Sometimes she lets him help, brushing her hair, hooking her brassiere, smoothing out the straps, running his fingers along the waistband of her panties... of course, that usually leads to everything coming off again, and they really can't afford to take the day off, not with all the damage control and repair awaiting them. Still, he can afford a few minutes to admire.

"It's chilly in here, for some reason," she says, smiling as she adjusts a green grandma shawl over her bright red power suit. He'd bought the shawl as a joke, but it's good thick wool, and yeah, what with the floor to ceiling window in the next room a gaping hole, the early morning outside air temperature is pretty much the early morning inside air. Jarvis is probably fretting over his inability to maintain seventy-six degrees f. in the living quarters.

"I could warm you up." He gets out of bed and puts his arms around her from behind. He's always been unable to resist a straight line. It's generous of her to give him one. Pepper is so very good to him; he doesn't deserve her, and he knows it. He leans his head on her shoulder, and then looks up into the mirror at the same time she lifts her eyes to meet his.

His scream comes out distorted, an animal's roar, even as his hands clutch at Pepper with broad golden furred paws instead of hands. Pepper screams and tries to get away from him, and claws come out, ripping through the shawl, tearing into her skin. He can feel the resistance, feel the wet under his claws, and for a moment it feels so good he wants to rip out her throat, break her spine... he forces himself to spread his paws, pulling the claws out and shoving her to the floor. She stares up at him, stunned. 

Now he can see his whole body. Red-maned, golden lion torso and forelegs, melding impossibly into a thick, restlessly curving, poison-green scaled serpent. "No!" he screams, but all he hears is a guttural dumb beast yowling, howling. And Pepper looks so beautiful, so helpless... so... delicious... In panic he flees before he kills her, destroys the one good thing he's kept all these years. Instinctively he makes this body move, he doesn't have to think about it, which is lucky, because it's insane, it's impossible, it's... fucking magic. 

Fucking Loki. 

He winds up several levels down in one of the still vacant research floors, with no memory of how he got there, whether he slithered down the emergency stairs, or managed the elevator controls with his bloody paws. He locks the level down and stares at himself, reflected dimly, but not dimly enough, in the steel surface of the wall. He lifts his paw and licks the sweet, salt richness of Pepper's blood from his talons and then he's sick, coughing and racking endlessly until the blood that comes up is his own from his raw throat. He braces himself against the floor, and sees that he has arms again. He runs his hands frantically all over; yes, human again. 

Did that happen? Was it real? There's blood on his hands, but then, he's kneeling in spatters of the stuff. He takes a deep breath. Jarvis will know. "Jarvis, are you here?" He should be, he has eyes and ears throughout the building and so much excess capacity he never needs downtime. 

"Always, sir."

Tony closes his eyes and sighs in relief at the cool, sane tones of his most reliable confidant. "Tell me." Tony puts his hands on his knees and gets up, a little further away from the smell of the mess he's made. "Is Pepper all right? Did I... was I... myself? A few minutes ago. In the penthouse." He's rambling, but he's shaken, he can't help it.

"Ms. Potts' injuries are minor. She is, however, in a state of considerable emotional distress."

Tony shakes his head. "Yeah, no, that... doesn't answer my question. What happened?"

Jarvis is silent for several seconds, which, considering how many computations Jarvis can go through in a millisecond, means he's either delaying for optimum conversational impact, or he's having difficulty expressing the answer. Under the circumstances, Tony is pretty sure Jarvis isn't playing for laughs. "Just show me." Tony wakes up the nearest smart glass table.

"Sir. That might not be the wisest course of..."

"Now, Jarvis."

Yes, it's more than a bit paranoid to have your bedroom monitored, but Jarvis keeps far more intimate secrets for Tony and ever since that night in Malibu, he hasn't been able to sleep unless he knows Jarvis is keeping an eye on him. Eh, as coping mechanisms go, it works, don't mess with functional systems. The glass begins showing video. Pepper's back is to the video pickup. There's no sound, he hadn't asked for it, and he's glad of it when... his body shifts, like melting wax, like heat haze on a summer road, like a mirage over an Afghan desert. And there he is, half lion, half snake, grabbing Pepper and throwing her to the floor before he runs/slithers, god... out of the room and Pepper sits up, eyes wide and skin shock white.

"Enough!" Tony turns away from the table, still playing the scene. "Right. Right. I can... fix this." His hands flex as he thinks of Pepper's green cloak, dotted with red, and he looks down, seeing fur sprout and then shrink, scales slide along his body as his legs merge for an instant, and worse, worse, he feels _hungry_ and he remembers the taste of blood. "NO!" He slams his hands, human again, back on the table. "Gotta... get away. Think this over. Jarvis, bring me the Mark VII."

"I really do not..."

Tony smashes the table again. "NOW!" He's trying to think, first thing, get away from Pepper, get away from everyone, if possible. Try to find out if there's a logic behind the intervals of change, work within the intervals to contact someone who can help him figure this out... probably Reed, fucking Reed, weird shit is right up his alley, Thor... Thor would be good if he could reach him, get him to talk to other magic-- he hates the very word-- users in Asgard, not Loki, not fucking, batshit Loki, to find a way of countering this... who else...oh... maybe Bruce? Bruce doesn't know any more about magic than Tony, but he _is_ an expert on involuntary transformations, if only by necessity. And Bruce is one of the few people who'd be safe from Tony Monster. Hulk would probably kill him, which... you know, be a pity because Bruce would feel guilty about it, so lets try to avoid that, shall we?

Right, right. He's got a plan. It's a shitty, vague plan, but it's a start. The elevator pings, and he looks to see the doors open, revealing the armor in its compacted form. "Yeah. Time to suit up."

"Sir..."

"Look, Jarvis, send that video to Bruce, tell him..." Tony hits the manual initialization on the suit and lines up his back with it as it unfolds. It'd be smoother with the homing bracelets, but there's always more than one way to un-skin an Iron Man. "Tell him I think Loki did this, don't know what triggers it, it's not anger or adrenalin..." The suit adjusts itself to fit, smooth and snug, and not really comfortable; there's a reason he usually wears an undersuit.

"Ms. Potts has already informed Mr. Banner of the situation. I strongly advise you await his arrival."

"Yeah, no. We're going to remote teleconference this seminar, Jarvis. The in-fighting would really not be pretty." Tony gets in the elevator once he's suited up, helmet in gauntleted hand. "Up to the roof." He'd rather not break another window, some poor bastard on the street might get hit by flying glass, and Pepper might still be in the penthouse so that's off limits, too.

"Sir, the Mark VII repairs have not been completed," Jarvis protests, but the elevator is rising, so, fine.

"Yeah, a bit of wobble, no problem, I'll compensate." And if he crashes into the ocean, that'd solve a lot of problems, wouldn't it? It's not a _good_ solution, but workable.

***

The elevator is slower than normal, and Jarvis keeps trying to talk Tony out of leaving, but ultimately has to obey him. Tony puts on the helmet and clomps out onto the roof, distracted by all the warning alerts on the HUD. So, ok, he's going to have to be creative. Seat of the pants flying takes on a new meaning when you've got misaligned thrusters on your back.

"Tony, no!"

Well, shit. Tony turns to face Pepper. She's not wearing the shawl, and dots of drying blood streak her torn dress, brownish against the scarlet. Bruce is standing behind her.

"Jarvis, you traitor." Tony lifts the faceplate. "Hi, guys, look, I'm just going out for some air, no need to see me off."

"Tony." Pepper steps forward, but Bruce puts out his arm to stop her, and he approaches Tony. 

Bruce says very calmly, "Why don't you take off the suit and we'll go in and talk about what's bothering you." His face is at odds with his tone, a leashed fury. "I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt Pepper. That was just the drink."

"Drink? What are you talking about?" Tony belatedly makes the connection as Bruce moves closer. He looks really pissed off. "God's sake, I didn't get drunk and abuse Pepper! What the FUCK!" Tony waves his gauntleted arms around. "What the fuck do you think I am?"

"Your father's son," Bruce says. "Like I'm a chip off my dad's rotten block. But I'm not going to let you hurt Pepper." His eyes are green, and his shirt is stretching.

"NO, NO, stop this!" Pepper shouts, but neither of them are listening to her.

"I would NEVER hurt Pepper!" But he did, and oh, how close he came to killing her. It makes him so angry at himself, and here's Bruce not letting him leave, not letting him keep Pepper safe. He drops the faceplate back down. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of my way." Tony lifts his hands and aims the repulsors at Bruce.

Bruce snarls and explodes into green, and the color just fires along Tony's spine, letting his own monster out. He doesn't think about the suit, just lunges for the Hulk, determined to rip it apart with his claws and fangs, wants the hot, hot blood in his mouth. Pepper screams. The Hulk roars. And Tony meets him, snarling.

***

"Ow." Tony feels vague and fuzzy, and his tongue is thick and covered with fur. No, maybe not, he scrapes it against his teeth to make sure and then turns his head. Bruce is sitting on a chair beside the cot Tony's lying on. It's chilly, which isn't surprising as Tony is sans suit, well, unless you count his birthday suit. At least Bruce doesn't look angry. Or green.

Tony thinks about sitting up, but decides that's a bit ambitious. He settles for rolling his head and listening to the vertebrae crackle as the room spins gently. "The secure lab?"

"Pepper's suggestion." Bruce leans forward and rests his arms across his knees. "No windows. Only one door. You weren't drunk."

"Yeah." Maybe he will sit up, after all. He manages it with minimal groaning. "What hit me?"

"You know what hit you. Apparently the other guy still likes you. Pepper tells me it was like watching a master chef shell a lobster."

Tony winces. "And I liked that suit."

"Look on the bright side, you might be able to make a modern art mobile out of the pieces." Bruce is still looking at Tony, assessing him scientifically, dispassionately. "So. You weren't drunk or drugged. You are now, by the way. Nothing much, just a little crutch to keep calm, an old friend of mine. What was it, then, a psychotic break?"

Tony stares at Bruce in disbelief. "Didn't Pepper tell you? Didn't Jarvis show you the vid?"

Bruce frowns. "Yes, and yes. I saw you attack Pepper for no reason."

"You didn't see the... monster? Big? Hairy? Well, half hairy. Half scale-y."

"Maybe I wasn't thorough enough with the drug screen."

"It's not... I didn't..." Tony is frustrated by not being able to summon up the energy to be really frustrated. And yeah, that makes no sense. "Loki did it. When I gave him that drink. He made me turn into..." Tony finds a StarkPad lying on the table next to him, and quickly sketches out a rough impression of ... "That. A monster."

"Tony." Bruce glances at the sketch and shakes his head. "No. I would say such a transformation was impossible, but, ah, you know me, the evidence to the contrary." He shrugs. "Maybe it's _possible._ But it didn't happen."

"But Pepper! I saw the blood on her shoulders!"

"You scratched her with your fingernails. Bruised her a little. That's all. That's what she said, and that's what I saw. Whatever else happened, it was all in your mind."

"That... you know... that doesn't really help. If Loki fucked with my mind, instead of my body, I'm still... I could have killed Pepper with my bare hands." Tony grabs his hair and tugs at it, wanting to feel something through the haze, something to help him focus. "I still could. Or ... do worse. I didn't just want to kill her... I wanted to hunt her, like a predator... and... eat her."

"Um. Yeah, that's not good." Bruce pats Tony's knee, awkwardly offering comfort. "Look, why don't you write down everything you remember and we'll try to figure this out." Bruce stands up. "I'm going to go have a talk with Pepper, let her know what's going on."

"Yeah." Tony stares at the StarkPad, trying to decide how to put feelings down. It's not something he's good at. "Just... don't let Pepper come down here." Tony listens to make sure Bruce locks the door from the outside. Not that Tony couldn't get out, but the... monster... doesn't think, it wouldn't be able to do anything more than claw at the door. So. That's good... no, actually, this whole thing has reached new levels of bad. At his worst, at his lowest, he's always been able to count on his mind. Even when drunk out of his skull, he'd at least never had _violent_ hallucinations. He's a damn cheerful drunk. The melancholy he saves for hangovers. Now he can't rely on the one thing he's always had to lean on. No matter how bad things got, at least he had a damn good brain, his one saving grace that kept him from being a totally useless fuck-up.

He sighs and starts writing, trying to remember, trying not to censor out the embarrassing squishy, fluffy thoughts. God, this was far worse than a sex tape.

***

The door opens some time later, and Tony looks up as Bruce enters, carrying a tray in one hand. Tony's done what he can. The urge to wipe the StarkPad is very strong. His grip tightens on it.

"Trade you." Bruce holds out the tray. It's got a mug of coffee and a cheeseburger on it. And a bag of dried blueberries. They tried, they really did. He can't help smiling a little.

"Sure." He hands Bruce the StarkPad and takes the tray. He never did have breakfast, and he's doubtful about dinner the night before, so once he starts eating he realizes he is actually hungry. He eats slowly. Bruce reads fast. He looks up, blueberries in hand, when Bruce makes a sort of humming, 'aha' in Scientist-speak. "Found something?"

"Maybe. At least a possible common denominator for the trigger."

Tony points at him. "You're assuming there's only one."

"Well, yes, you've got to start out with some assumptions. You know, we could get Fury and the others in on this..."

"No!" Tony says quick and sharp. "Not a chance."

"Yeah, well, you could be right about Fury, but you know, Clint had been under Loki's mind control, and broke it."

"Yeah, that's right. I didn't hear the details. How was it broken?"

"Well..." Bruce rubs the back of his neck. "As I heard it, Natasha gave him a concussion."

Tony huffs. "Very scientific. Let's save that for a last resort." He finishes the blueberries and crumples the empty packet. "So, what's the common denominator?"

"I don't think I should tell you. A blind test would be better."

"Or double blind. Can one of the bots operate the trigger?"

"Yeah, I think so. We'll try with the bot first. If it doesn't work, then I'll go for it. If it is what I think we should be able to compensate for it, a stopgap at least. Until we figure out a cure."

"You have ideas on that?"

"A few." Bruce frowns. "None that I really like, though."

"We'll have to contact Thor." Tony really just _loves_ the idea of trusting his sanity, such as it is, to interdimensional witch doctoring, but then... he's not all that keen on Earth variety medicine, either. At least magicians don't pretend to be scientists. "I read his file. He's very friendly with an astro-physicist named Jane Foster, a former colleague of Erik Selvig's, who is listed as a former colleague of yours."

"Um, is this a game of six degrees of separation?"

"Sort of. Apparently Thor's got a buddy in Asgard who keeps an eye on things. Everywhere. So it stands to reason he'll ask this friend to check in on Foster once in a while, make sure she's ok, you know? Long-distance romance. So if we can get a message to Foster without arousing suspicion she can... I don't know... put up a sign in her lab asking for his help."

"A sign." The expression on Bruce's face isn't one of overwhelming confidence.

"Ok, it's a long shot, but I figure you can at least get a word with Selvig in private and get the ball rolling."

"Yeah, I can do that. He's still in SHIELD custody in New York, but should be released soon. He didn't actually do anything illegal under Loki's influence."

"So, you've already talked to him."

"A little."

***

Tony never has been good at waiting. He understands the logical necessity for springing the trigger attempt on him without warning, but that doesn't make it any easier. By the time the door clicks open, and Dummy rolls in, he'd been reduced to pacing like a caged... no, don't think that way. "Hey, Dummy, what have you got for me?"

Dummy meeps at him and waves a stack of white cards in a translucent box. 

"Cards? I swear if that's a set of Zener cards and Bill Murray comes in with a cattle prod, I'm calling you on unprofessional personal bias, Bruce." There's no response. Jarvis is undoubtedly feeding video to Bruce, but of course he doesn't want to risk contaminating the test. "Fine." Tony waves his hands. "Hit me, Dummy."

Taking into account Dummy's single-handedness, Bruce had rigged a remote-control mechanism to flip the cards, so all Dummy has to do is hold them. The first card is a close-up of Pepper. Tony stares at the picture for a good ten seconds before letting out a sigh of relief. "Ok, fine, Pepper is beautiful, and brings out the animal in me, but not that one. Next?"

Next is a photo of Loki, probably taken from the SHIELD security cam on the helicarrier. Loki with his pale blue eyes and his smirk, and his ridiculous green and black leather S/M outfit. Tony hears himself growling as he lunges forward. The card mechanism flips to an image of the Mark III armor and Tony stops in mid-stride, feeling the monster recede. "Oh. That's interesting. Yeah, wait a sec while I back up. I think we may want a bit more buffer zone." Tony goes to the cot against the wall and sits down. "Deal me another." A still of Pepper from this morning has him up and raging in a blink before it flips to Rhodey wearing his dress blues which doesn't bother him. Dummy wheels about nervously while Tony takes a few minutes to calm himself enough to continue.

The next six cards are solid colors; red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. "I think I see where you're going with this, but it's not happening."

Dummy puts down the cards and backs out of the room. Tony looks up at the vid pickup in the corner of the ceiling. "Any other bright ideas?"

"A few." Tony blinks and looks down, following Bruce's voice. Bruce is standing well outside the door in front of Dummy.

"The color green seems to be part of it." Bruce looks at Tony expectantly. "But I guess, not the word. Greensleeves? Green beans? Greengrocer?"

"Nope, nada, zilch." Tony starts to get up, but Bruce waves him back.

"Ok, only a visual trigger, that's good, that's excellent."

"Sure, hey, I can go around blindfolded, I can touch-type, what more do I need."

Bruce smiles. "Close your eyes."

"Fine. Great." Tony obeys, fingers drumming restlessly on his reactor. If he can't have visual input, he'll settle for sound. He was lucky Raza hadn't tried sensory deprivation. That _might_ have broken him.

"Ok, you can look now."

Tony opens his eyes. Dummy is wearing Pepper's green grandma shawl draped over his arm with his grasping claw clicking nervously in the folds. It looks ridiculous. Tony tilts his head and squints. "Maybe something in mauve. I think Dummy could really rock a mauve outfit."

"Close your eyes again."

Tony obeys, but his patience is wearing thin. He opens his eyes when Bruce tells him and at first doesn't notice anything different. Then he sees Bruce is wearing a pale green shirt. He slams bodily into the closing security door, clawing at the solid steel in frustration. His prey! Just out of his reach! He has no sense of time passing, just pure blind hunger and rage, screaming and smashing himself against the door, the walls, ripping the cot mattress to shreds until he falls to his knees sobbing hoarsely, and realizes he _has_ knees. The dim droning sound he's been ignoring resolves itself into Bruce's voice over the intercom, soft and ragged, as if he'd been talking for hours. Which he might well have been, judging by the way Tony feels.

He coughs and shakes his head. "Hey. Bruce. I'm back." He shifts and winces. "Ow. But I gotta tell you, I'm not enjoying it."

"That was a more violent episode. And the duration increased."

"Uh huh." Tony closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stave off pain-induced nausea. "Listen. Do you know how to reduce a dislocated shoulder? Because... that could come in handy right about now..." He shifts again, trying to ease his shoulder only to wake up other trouble areas. "Along with about a quart of scotch."

***

"I'm not going to ask why Pepper knew you had a blindfold in your night stand," Bruce remarks as he ties it securely on Tony after reducing the dislocation and putting the left arm in a sling. He'd returned wearing a purple shirt and carrying a first aid kit, but no scotch. Tony tries to be philosophical about that. And fails.

But he is feeling better after Bruce's rough and ready medical care. As if he'd been beaten all over by Louisville Sluggers, but yes, that's an improvement. He grins. "Pepper knows everything. And she still likes me. Isn't she amazing?"

Bruce chuckles. "Yeah, she is." He puts a hand under Tony's right arm. "I prescribe a set of x-rays, and a night's sleep."

"Mmm, later. I couldn't sleep." Tony stands up with Bruce's guidance. "You know. Just... it's not going to happen."

"I'll give you a pass on the sleep, then, but the x-ray is mandatory, even though the closed reduction was a success." Bruce's grip is firm, as is his voice. "You're in no condition to make an independent assessment of the damage. You don't remember what you did."

"Yeah. That's weird, isn't it?"

"Waking up without knowing what you've done? That's just another Wednesday for me." Bruce's voice is so dry, it crackles.

"I've been there... but usually not when I'm sober." Tony tries for another grin. He's not as steady on his feet as he'd like, and loss of sight is bothering him more than he'd admit. "Look, workshop first. I've got a full set of Wratten filters there. I used to do a bit of astrophotography. Number 47 violet should block green. It always worked great on Venus."

Bruce starts walking slowly, letting Tony take his time. "Yeah, that should do. Be a bit clunky, since it's meant for an 8 inch aperture but I can haggle it into a sort of skindiver's mask, I suppose. It's not really my field, though."

"It'll be fine. You know... I'm really glad you were here, Bruce."

"I'm... I'm glad I was here, too, Tony."

Tony squeezes Bruce's biceps. "We make a good team."

"You're just buttering me up so I'll let you have your way."

"Is it working?"

"No. X-rays first."

"You're being very mean to me."

"It's called 'Tough Love', Tony."

***

Tony walks into the living room cautiously, with Bruce holding firmly onto his elbow. Pepper is standing there, staring at him. He waves his good arm vaguely indicating the sling, the huge violet face mask, and various bandages. Since he's only wearing loose pajama trousers, there's a lot of them on display. "You should see the other guy, Pepper!"

"Tony, there was no other guy," Bruce says.

"Yes, there was. Loki." 

Pepper comes over to Tony, hesitantly. "Bruce told me what happened. We'll work it out."

Tony nods. "But to be on the safe side, Pep, I want you to stay away from me, until this is all settled."

"But Bruce said the trigger was people wearing green. I can..."

"You can't. We know that's _one_ trigger. And we know there can be much more severe ...episodes... than the first one." Tony brings up his hand slowly to stroke Pepper's arm, aware of Bruce standing tense and defensive at his side. "Pepper... if I hurt you. I couldn't... I can't risk it."

Pepper takes a deep breath. "All right. I'll move to one of the lower floors. Is there anything I can do?"

"Oh. Yeah, can you call Wiley-X and order a couple pair of the SG-1 tactical goggles in my prescription, but with green-blocking lenses?"

"Do they even _make_ that?" Pepper asks.

"I'm pretty sure they will, with enough incentive."

Pepper sighs. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, Ms. Potts, that will be all."

***

So, now they're back to Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts. Tony tries to tell himself this is only temporary but he has a sinking feeling that the longer he keeps Pepper at a distance, the more time she'll have to consider how much simpler her life would be without dating him. She could meet someone, chat with them, realize that she doesn't have to settle for someone as broken and needy as Tony Stark with the laundry list of character defects, the history and all the baggage, including his tendency towards _epic_ self-destruction. She could fall for the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Hell, Happy could pick her up at the airport and she could have a blinding epiphany about his broad shoulders and uncouth, but innate, gallantry.

But maybe instead of piling more work on her to keep her too busy to have a social life, he should be pushing her away. It hadn't been so bad before, when he was a target only for normal billionaire-related disasters, like kidnapping, blackmail and scandal. He had his bodyguards, his money, and his lack of shame to handle all that, and it seldom impinged directly on Pepper. But this... superheroing business... the stakes are higher, and collateral damage pretty much a given. Losing Pepper to a rival... well, she might still stay with SI, if he didn't screw up and make things too awkward. So, not the worst case scenario there. She'd be safe, and he'd get to see her, talk with her, love her without touching, which... hey, he'd done that for years, and it was a hell of a lot better than having no one. 

But if he gets her killed.

Or kills her himself.

That... that's just... totally unacceptable. 

He really, really hates Loki for putting him in this position. He was actually happy there for a while. Should have known it wouldn't last.

***

"I spoke to Selvig today," Bruce says, coming into the workshop warily. Tony knows he's been a prickly bastard, and he would apologize, but what's the point, his mood isn't going to improve any time soon.

Tony eases his goggles and resettles them before turning to face Bruce. They're custom-fitted, but they still have rubbed sore places across his nose and cheeks. The only relief he gets from them is when he sleeps, which... not really high on his agenda now, considering how often he wakes from nightmares of slicing people up into delicious cutlets, and yeah, eating isn't his favorite thing these days, either. "And? Come on, don't make me beg, Bruce."

Bruce heaves a deep sigh. "SHIELD moved Jane for her own safety when Loki arrived, they told him that much, but they wouldn't tell him where. They don't trust him since, y'know, he was 'compromised'."

"Great. And they removed my link, so Jarvis doesn't have an in with the helicarrier computers any more." Tony leans against the wall and bangs his head against it, not entirely gently. "I... *thump*.... am.... *thump*....so... *thump*.... tired of this."

"Reed is still working on it," Bruce says, trying to sound positive, but he'd been with Tony when Reed did his mad scientist impersonation and hit Tony with every weird-ass test in the universe, including Kirlian auras, which Tony is pretty sure even REED doesn't believe have any bearing on the matter. 

"Reed is having fun. He will probably emerge from his lab in a month or so with a fantastic gadget to turn rainbows into kittens or some such." Tony gives his head one last thump for luck. "Jarvis hasn't found her at any astrophysics lab. Either they have her taking a holiday, or they've got her working off the books. There aren't even any recent hires or transfers listed anywhere. So, short of going around and knocking on a hell of a lot of doors, Jane is out of the picture."

"Well, you know, Jane was only going to pass the message on to Thor." Bruce pats Tony on the back. "We'll find another way."

"I am not, not, not going to go crawling to Fury. Wouldn't do any good, anyway. They sure wouldn't trust _me_. Maybe I should have let Natasha crack my skull open and let the fresh air in." What the hell, another thump wouldn't hurt. "Pity I'm an atheist. Praying to Thor seems about the only option."

"We'll figure something out." Bruce grabs Tony's collar and tugs. "Get up and take a shower. The other guy is beginning to complain about the aroma."

"No, he isn't." Tony gets up anyway. "He's in no position to get judgy over a person's bodily effluvia."

"I'll tell him you said that." Bruce heads for the door and Tony follows.

"Go ahead. I'm not scared. He likes me best."

***

A hot shower has Tony feeling more human, so he makes the social effort of coffee and sandwiches with Bruce, and even teleconferences with Pepper. S.I. isn't thrilled that he's been out of the loop for a solid week after Iron Man playing tag with a nuke. The board's starting to give her flack about a cover-up and is about two inches away from declaring him dead. He's been expecting that, so he's building a Life Model Decoy to stand in for him. He hasn't got 'round to impressing the specific template yet, but the basic structure and humanoid programming is in place. 

So he's thinking about other things when he walks into the workshop to find Dummy drooping inertly with his claw resting on the floor in a puddle of lubricant, sparks fizzing from his open wiring compartment and the smell of burnt insulation an acrid reek in the air. "What the hell?" Tony looks around quickly, but doesn't see anything else amiss. "Jarvis, what happened to Dummy, was there an intruder?" Damn well shouldn't have been. There hasn't even been an alarm.

"There has been no intrusion, sir. Dummy's condition was self-inflicted."

"What? I've got suicidal bots, now? Great." Tony waves away the smoke and peers closer to get an initial estimate of the damage. He pats Dummy on the claw before grabbing tools and spare parts to commence repairs. "You're making me look very bad. Bruce will think I've been abusing you." He pulls out the burnt mass of wiring. "How did you even _do_ this? You are _unique_ , Dummy, and I don't mean that in a good way." Plugging in new components, replacing the lubricant line and topping Dummy off with fresh fluid only takes a few minutes. "If you've fried your motherboard... well, I don't really _need_ a coat rack..."

Dummy twitches. His sensors blink a few times and his claw opens and shuts before he elevates himself to his usual position. 

"That's better." Tony strokes Dummy's main support strut and hooks the bot up to a coding diagnostic program. "Hmm... I don't see anything unusual here. Jarvis, run me the recent downloads and interaction files for Dummy." He moves over to the desk. "Cross-reference with real-time activity... and HEY, I shouldn't need to remind you, replace all the green on displays with something I can _see_." Tony drums his fingers on the reactor while he scans Dummy's day. "Making inedible smoothies... normal... attempting to help clean up... creating bigger mess... uh huh... oh, here's a priority distress surge... right, you didn't like me playing head-banger. Yeah, not good to upset the kids." Dummy is making sad electronic puppy noises. 

"Yeah, yeah, it's all right. Stop apologizing. What did you do here? Oh, no, Jarvis, I've told you not to let Dummy google. You remember last time when he thought he was Zorro? I'm still finding Z's in his comment code." Tony blinks at the web history file. "You're kidding me. 'Pray to Thor' website? You sacrificed yourself to Thor?" Tony looks at Dummy. "Why? And I find myself wondering why I ask. Because it was a stupid thing to do. So obviously you couldn't resist." He releases Dummy from the diagnostics. "Well, you're no more scrambled than usual. Go clean up the workbench. If you find any loose screws they're probably yours."

***

"Sir," Jarvis announces, "there is a severe electro-magnetic disturbance approaching."

"Don't disturb me. I'm self-medicating here." Tony pours another Scotch and stares gloomily out the window. He's pleased that the Chrysler building survived the invasion unscathed. They don't build them like that anymore. He's always had a sneaking affection for Art Deco, despite giving Pepper a free hand with collecting modern art. Art Deco was all about the future, elegance and clean-lined functionality going hand in hand, and if anyone said Iron Man was actually Art Deco armor he'd deny it. He's not an artist, just an engineer who knows when things are _right_. 

A black shadow engulfs the Chrysler building. Tony looks up instinctively. A single black cloud is forming in a crystal clear blue sky, the ink-black swirling like a tornado. The funnel stretches down, aiming directly at him. "Well, shit," Tony says, scrambling to his feet, tumbler reflexively held tight. "That... now, that doesn't look good." He hesitates, trying to decide what to do, if anything. Is this another hallucination? One perhaps meant to make him _think_ he's suited up and go flying, _splat_ , out the window. The nearest functional suit is in the workroom, the newest suitcase armor only half done, abandoned to work on the LMD for the board--- he's really got to handle the multi-tasking better. 

And then the lightning strikes on... just above... can't tell, the afterimage has him blinking away dazzle... anyway, Iron Man's landing pad. He heads towards it to see what the damage is.

"Man of Iron! I come in answer to your prayers!"

Tony blinks again. Yep. Big blond Nordic type standing on Tony's landing pad holding his hammer in one hand and Loki's glowstick of destiny in the other, legs wide-spread, blond mane swirling in the remnant of the dissipating pocket storm, scarlet cape flapping, etc. etc. oh, Tony's seen the posters, take it as read, Thor is impressive. "You may be the answer to every maiden's prayers, Thor, but forgive me, in case you haven't noticed... not a maiden." 

Thor frowns and then his face clears and he laughs. "The prayer was on your behalf." Thor strides into the main room and looks around. "Where is my petitioner?"

"Your what?" Tony looks at the glass in his hand and wonders if he's had too much already. He shrugs and slugs it back.

"Your son."

Tony decides he probably hasn't had enough. "I hope this isn't a cross-dimensional paternity suit, because Pepper's already annoyed with me."

Thor apparently decides to ignore everything Tony says, which, fair enough, he wouldn't be the first. "There are very few honest prayers, ones from the heart, sacrificing on another's behalf. Odin decreed that this one merited my return to Midgard."

"Oh!" Tony snaps his fingers. "Dummy. Amazing, it actually worked. And you know," Tony says, having finally got up to speed and remembered that he _did_ need Thor's help, "I really did want to talk to you. Care for a drink?"

"Indeed! Selvig introduced me to boilermakers. I found them a pleasant beverage, although mild."

"Uh huh." Tony fixes a double-shot boilermaker and gives it to Thor, who downs it in one long, continuous swallow, thumps the stein down and grins. 

"Ok, you definitely are invited to the next Stark gala. We'll sit around and impress everyone with stories about saving the world."

"Yes! We should feast and tell great lies." Thor smiles, but his smile fades. "But not the kind of lies that bring pain. I regret that I did not realize what Loki had done."

"Yeah. Not your fault. How do I fix this?"

Thor shifts uneasily and looks away from Tony. "When I heard your son's prayer, I went to Loki and spoke with him. He freely admitted having placed you under a curse and told me how it might be broken."

"Fine, great. What? Come on, I don't care what it is, eye of newt cocktail, sky-clad dance widdershins around a churchyard at midnight, whatever. Lay it on me."

"It..." Thor sighs and meets Tony's eyes. "It can only be broken if you kill Loki with no more than the power of your own body. Even were I to allow you to make the attempt..."

Tony looks at the mess on the floor where the Hulk had smashed Loki and not even managed to break the bastard's nose. "Yeah. Got it. Thanks." Tony gets another drink. "So, are you going to be in town long?"

"I had thought to visit my Jane. But I shall stay with you if you wish. The curse will worsen, I am told, until anyone who has anything in common with Loki will bring forth the beast."

"Oh, that's gonna be fun." Tony shakes his head. "Go and see your Jane. I'll... figure something out on my own." Doesn't he always? Really, the only helping hands he's ever found reliable are at the ends of his own arms.

"Very well... but if you should need me, I shall return."

"Great. Thanks." Tony watches as Thor heads back to the landing pad and hammer-twirls himself off into the sky. "That still doesn't look possible," he mutters before drinking his umpteenth scotch. Good thing he stocked up.

***

Tony is half-asleep on the couch when his phone rings. He startles upright, groping around for it. He has to get up and look around the room, checking that he's alone, safe, before he can accept the call. It's Pepper. "Yeah. What?" He's still drunk, but even so, he knows better than to speak to Pepper like that. "Sorry, sorry. I was... on the couch."

"Oh." Pepper doesn't sound like she understands, but that's fine. He doesn't want her to know all his triggers, especially not that the fucked up game Obi played with his reactor is now linked to getting phone calls from her when he's sitting on a couch. He doesn't want pity.

"I've maybe had a drink. Or three. My old drinking buddy Thor was by." 

Pepper's sigh is loud enough to be quite clear over the phone. "I was just calling to find out how close the LMD is to completion. The board..."

Tony sits up abruptly. "Son of a... you're a genius, Pepper." He leaps up and goes over to the desk, still holding the phone in one hand. "Jarvis! Jarvis, run a 360 display of Loki in his killer leathers- but don't SHOW it to ME, pull pattern specs from that and print up something a tailor can use to recreate it in all its gaudy green glory. No, not a tailor, a theatrical costumer. I'll need the reindeer hat. And the glowstick, better have that, too. It doesn't have to do anything except look shiny. Yeah, you can fabricate the stick. It'll be faster."

"Tony," Pepper says over the phone. "Are you all right?"

"Maybe? Could be!" Tony heads for the workshop. "I'm not sure. Stall the board. And find a theatrical costumer for a rush job."

***

Bruce has to oversee the finishing touches, the final impressions. The LMD doesn't need all the bells and whistles since it won't have to match retina or fingerprint ID checks or endure telepathic scrutiny, or carry on lengthy conversations. It doesn't have to pass x-ray or medical scans, blush or have a range of facial expressions. It doesn't need to be able to mock a personality. It's only going to have to fool one very stupid monster.

Tony is on edge, just thinking about the LMD, what it will look like. He keeps feeling the claws and fur and fangs and scales moving under his skin. If this doesn't work, he'll talk to Thor again. Loki could have lied, almost certainly lied. It probably won't work. Loki is probably sitting on Asgard, laughing his ass off waiting for Thor to return and beg for his help. And Loki will be all smiles and 'of course, brother, but...' and it'll be his freedom for Tony's cure, and you know... even if the Asgard folk would agree to it, and even if they could make sure Loki lived up to his bargain, no. Loki enjoys pulling the wings off flies too much to quit and Tony's not going to be responsible for freeing him to play games with lives again.

There's an answer, there's always an answer. Maybe Bruce could give him lessons in self-control. Maybe he could wear some sort of tranq system, triggered by adrenalin surge. Say goodbye to being Iron Man, or any hero-stuff, but at least he wouldn't have to stay penned up in the Tower, like a princess waiting for his hair to grow long enough for a prince to climb.

***

"If this doesn't work and it looks like I'll get out, you hit the button," Tony tells Bruce once more. He's standing in one of the containment labs, carefully not looking at the sheet-draped figure standing against the far wall. Bruce is outside at the controls, looking in through an observation port. They've left the intercom keyed open, with the access door locked from the outside, but Tony's not counting on that. He still has no memory of getting to the research floor after the first attack, doesn't know if the monster has subconscious access to Tony's override codes, which is why they've hooked up a canister of sedative gas to the sealed environmental systems.

Bruce nods patiently. "How will we know if it does work?"

"Once I stop doing my Shere Khan impression," Tony says, not mentioning the possibility that Loki has rigged it so 'killing' him will lock Tony permanently in monster mode, "you can test me. I'm sure you have at least one ugly green shirt you wouldn't miss."

"I've learned not to get too attached to clothes," Bruce says, dead-pan. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Tony goes to the LMD and grabs a fistful of sheet. "You know, I just want to say for the record, I really hate magic." Then he pulls the sheet off quickly, on the band-aid principle, get it over with. Loki. LOKI. Loki's eyes flash green and he smiles. He _smiles_. Tony goes for Loki's throat, snarling and clawing. They land on the floor, rolling over and over with Loki hitting at him, and him ripping, tearing, the scent of leather in his nose, the taste of it on his tongue, then he gets to the skin, so smooth, so pale. 

Loki is struggling harder now, screaming in pain and panic. It feels so good. He pins Loki down and bites, bites until there's blood, flesh and blood. So good. He gnaws and swallows, filling the emptiness within him with Loki meat. After a while Loki stops moving, stops making noise. He eats until he's full, and ...

He's lying on the LMD, covered in blood. The LMD has ragged hunks of meat dangling off its battered frame.

"JESUS!" Tony scrambles backward, wiping at his face, but his hands are just as bloody. "What the hell!"

"We were going to have steak tonight," Bruce says. "I tied a few sirloins under the LMD's clothes."

Tony looks up at the observation port. He's hyperventilating, and he feels sick. "You could have TOLD ME."

Bruce shrugs. "Yeah, I could have."

"You are such a troll, Bruce. SUCH a TROLL."

***

"Sorry about the steaks," Bruce says later, after they've run all the tests they can, up to and including Bruce wearing an extra set of the Loki costume, complete with black wig. 

"No, you're not." Tony is contemplating flossing again. Pepper had to go back to California two days ago to fight with the board, but she promised to be back tonight. Tony's in the mood for shibari. He's got the velvet ropes all laid out along with Pepper's favorite scented oils. She'd have made a hell of a boy scout... she can tie him in the most delicious knots.

"Well... maybe a little." Bruce grins. "What are we having for dinner?"

Tony looks at Bruce. "Don't mention food to me." He feels like he's swallowed a whale.

Bruce gets up and pats him on the shoulder. "You're fine. You know, you're the luckiest person alive. Who else would be literally saved by Deus ex machina?"

"What's that?" 

Bruce leaves the workshop, heading for the kitchen. "God from the machine. A cheap literary device to get the writer out of a plot hole."

"Huh." Tony pats Dummy on his claw. It's true, if Dummy hadn't prayed to Thor, Tony would still be up the creek without a paddle. "Good boy."

Dummy chirps happily.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts I used were: Shapeshifter  
> And  
> [this visual prompt.](http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_me%20Fairie%20Tales/mikotam4.jpg)


End file.
